


The Gift of Perception

by Keiblade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Rated teen for language, i really don't know how to tag things guys i'm so sorry, kyoutani can't swim, kyoutani is a misunderstood puppy, yahaba seems to be the only one who does, yahaba's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keiblade/pseuds/Keiblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yahaba chuckled humorlessly to himself. “Well, I did this to myself, didn’t I?” He muttered. </p>
<p>He put his face in his hands, the flush in his face warming the skin. </p>
<p>“Yeah… I’m fucked.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift of Perception

**Author's Note:**

> So, by popular request, it is DONE. I FINALLY wrote a fic accompanying my very first Kyouhaba comic from way back in September! This is one of the first fics I've ever written, so feedback would really be appreciated!! 
> 
> Here's a link to the comic, in case anyone's interested: http://rurounikristin.tumblr.com/post/133165596262/okay-i-have-had-this-idea-in-my-head-for-months

Yahaba liked to think that he had the gift of perception, when it came to people. His classmates were often perplexed by the fact that Yahaba had this ‘magic touch’ to get all of the little mechanisms to mesh together and work in harmony. It wasn’t really a touch, and it definitely wasn’t magic, but he couldn’t deny that he had a certain knack for picking out exactly what made a person _tick._ And, in the event that he couldn’t fine-tune the little cogs in a very stubborn—and extremely prickly—clock, shoving it against the wall to get the metaphorical gears to fucking _work_ seemed to do the trick.

Of course, Yahaba couldn’t help but feel a little proud about that last fact: getting an abhorrently rugged and particularly infuriating ‘clock’ to cooperate and get his god damn gears in line was a prime accomplishment in his ‘little black book of life accomplishments.’ It even came to his attention, swiftly and begrudgingly, that Yahaba had some weird sort of affection for those resistant cogs that he had kicked back into alignment. Was it because he had put an abnormal amount of effort into fixing them? Or, could it be, that those rusty-at-the-edges gears; turning and turning with so much obvious strength; were alluring enough to make him want to observe how they worked with a child-like curiosity for just a _little bit_ longer between stretches?  

Yahaba… tried not to think about it too much. With being chosen as next year’s captain, cram-school for college, and his whole mess of new feelings knotted up within his chest cavity like a patch of thorns, Yahaba had _a lot_ on his plate.

Which is exactly why this little outing with the team to a private lake, known only by Iwaizumi and his immediate family, in the midst of the summer for some food, swimming, and volleyball; was _precisely_ what he needed. He could deal with the tangle of emotions straining him at another time, even _with_ that stubborn-ass clock attending said outing.

Currently, he was out like a light in the very back of the van they had borrowed from Iwaizumi’s family, leaning against the window with his sweatshirt as a small cushion against the glass, the perpetual scowl on his face softened only slightly in his sleep. Yahaba kept finding his eyes wandering towards the rear-view mirror to get a glance at him, and every single time he tore his eyes away again in frustration, trying his damn hardest to keep his eyes on the scenery outside of his own window. Yet, he would catch himself again doing the same thing not even a minute later, like there was some kind of gravitational pull connecting his eyes to that _stupid mirror._

He turned his head to the side when he heard Watari quietly snort beside him, shaking his head in amusement. When he quirked an eyebrow at his friend, Watari simply shook his head with a frustratingly knowing smirk and continued to play on his 3DS.

Cheeky jerk. Cheeky and _annoyingly perceptive_ jerk.

When they finally arrived to the secluded body of water accompanied by clean sand and fresh air, Yahaba tumbled out of the van with all of the grace of a toddler learning to stand and stretched his horribly cramped legs a bit. Watari followed soon after, along with Matsukawa and Hanamaki who sighed with relief when they finally were free of the small amount of space allotted for them to sit during the trip. Oikawa and Iwaizumi stepped out of the front (Oikawa insisting he take shot-gun and Iwaizumi submitting just so he could rein in Oikawa’s antics) with a great deal more enthusiasm than the rest of the lot.

“Alright guys,” Iwaizumi announced, “everyone has to help unload the van before we do anything—and that means _you too, Oikawa.”_ He sent Oikawa a serious ‘I mean it’ with his dark eyes narrowed and Yahaba swore he could see Oikawa falter just a little through his charismatic smile.

“So rude!” Oikawa chided. “I wouldn’t even _think_ of slacking off.” Iwaizumi exaggerated a lengthy sigh when Oikawa literally dragged his feet towards the back of the van to unpack.

“Psst, Yahaba!” He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Kindaichi gesturing with his hand to ‘come hither’ away from the others and join Kunimi. Yahaba’s eyebrows furrowed, an amused laugh escaping.

“Uh, hey. What’s up, guys?”

“So, um,” Kindaichi started anxiously, “Kyoutani hasn’t woken up yet.”

Yahaba looked back towards the van and found that, indeed, Kyoutani was still passed out against the window, and didn’t look like he’d be waking anytime soon. He turned back to them and shrugged.

“So? Go wake him up. Shake him, or something.”

The two friends looked at each other for a moment in shock, like Yahaba had asked them to go poke a sleeping bear and see what happened. In reality, that’s probably how they thought of it.

“We’re… kind of legitimately worried he’ll punch us or something,” Kunimi muttered, Kindaichi nodding furiously next to him. “You’re pretty good with him, right? Do you think you could… y’know… get him to wake up without killing anyone?”

Yahaba sighed in understanding. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Kunimi and Kindaichi’s expressions instantly relaxed when they found they were relieved of their duties, and patted one of each of Yahaba’s shoulders. They both gave him a thumbs-up as they walked away to help set up the volleyball net, and Yahaba moved towards the back door of the van, his heartbeat starting to become apparent in his chest.

He didn’t want to open the door Kyoutani was leaning on because, as funny as Kyoutani tumbling onto the ground head-first might be to see, he didn’t want to be unnecessarily rude, and he _really_ didn’t feel like having Kyoutani plan his murder for the rest of the day, so he opened the opposite door and propped himself up into the bench seat, scooting himself closer to Kyoutani’s sleeping form.

Yahaba wasn’t sure what prompted him to do what he did next. Obviously, he was familiar with Kyoutani’s hair-style; the short bleached blonde and the two-stripes of black running from his temples to around the back of his head; he had seen it enough times during practice and games that he just assumed that hairstyle was just _Kyoutani’s_ , yet he felt like this was the first time he was really _looking_ at it.

Before he really realized what he was doing, his fingers were gingerly tracing the two stripes that lied just above Kyoutani’s ear. He felt his heart stutter to a halt in his chest when Kyoutani leaned into it with a soft sound that breathed out of his mouth, his eyes still softly closed.

That giant nest of thorns in Yahaba’s chest untangled itself pretty damn quickly after that.

_Oh… Well, fuck. That explains a lot._

Yahaba was suddenly facing Kyoutani opening his eyes to the scene in front of him, staring at him blankly in confusion. Yahaba was very aware of his hand still hovering above Kyoutani’s head, holding it there like he was paralyzed. In all truthfulness, he might have been, because he couldn’t seem to _move_ it, or stop his terrifying staring contest with Kyoutani’s fierce golden eyes.

“Uh,” Yahaba started, “you’re awake. Good.” He swallowed and found that his throat was _parched._

Kyoutani arched an eyebrow impressively. “The fuck… are you doing?”

“Waking you up,” Yahaba convinced himself, more than Kyoutani.

Kyoutani took a moment to glance around and the look on his face seemed to finally take in the fact that they were no longer in a _moving_ vehicle, and that he and Yahaba were the only ones left in it.

“How exactly do you expect me to get out of the van when you’re sitting on me?” Kyoutani grumbled, sleep still at the edge of his voice.

Yahaba clicked his tongue, remembering that oh yeah, he was dealing with _Kyoutani._ “Are you trying to tell me that you can’t use the door that you were drooling on?”

Kyoutani scowled, his eyes flickering to the side to—most likely—see if Yahaba was telling the truth about the drool, and after a few failed attempts of grabbing the door-handle, he muttered a quick ‘shut up’ and opened the door.

Except he misjudged just how close he was to the door, and fell right out of the van and onto the ground with a thud.

Yahaba stared blankly at the space that Kyoutani had previously occupied until his brain processed what had just happened, and then he had to cover his mouth with his hand because he was on the verge of exploding with laughter.

Kyoutani righted himself and stood up, taking a desperate look around to see if there were any witnesses, and when he saw none he stabbed a finger at Yahaba with a growing blush on his cheeks.

“You tell _anyone_ ,” he hissed, “and I will make sure that I spike a volleyball right into your stupid, pretty face.”

Yahaba watched him storm off towards the rest of the group with a breath caught in his throat.

 _…Pretty?_ _He thinks my face is pretty?_

Yahaba chuckled humorlessly to himself. “Well, I did this to myself, didn’t I?” He muttered.

He put his face in his hands, the flush in his face warming the skin.

“Yeah… I’m fucked.”

 

 

With everyone else enjoying the summer weather, the lunch that they had all brought to eat together, some intense beach volleyball, and—of course—the lake, it was easy for Yahaba to put the interaction with Kyoutani to the back of his mind. Although Kyoutani protested swimming at every request, Yahaba got to practice their teamwork playing volleyball together. There was just something so _satisfying_ about setting to someone who could _slam_ a ball into the opposing team’s court.   

As much as Yahaba hated to admit it, he actually had a fairly decent (really fun) time with Kyoutani, and they even managed to get the point where they could sort-of joke around together.

Neither of them noticed it, but every single one of the other members of their team were taking turns _staring_ at them in bewilderment because one does not simply _bond_ with Kyoutani, and yet they were seeing it happen before their very eyes.

The aforementioned boy was approaching Yahaba at the moment, picking a spot next to the light-haired brunet on the log he was sitting on to enjoy the heat of the bonfire. Yahaba scooted just a little to make room for him and was praying to the gods-that-be that he was only feeling warm because of the heat of the _fire_ and not because of… something else.

“Had your fill of volleyball already, Kyoutani? I thought that was impossible,” Yahaba chided playfully.

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumbass are busy seeing if they can spike the ball hard enough to go under the water right now. It got boring after about two seconds.”

Yahaba gazed out towards the water and saw Hanamaki and Matsukawa laughing hysterically at their own antics. Yahaba grinned at the two of them, admiring the way that they looked at each other with such fondness… how they just sort of _clicked._ He wasn’t sure when they had traded shirts, but it was probably sometime after swimming.

It was nice, seeing two people so happy together.

Yahaba quirked an eyebrow at Kyoutani when he saw he was attempting to air out his sweaty shirt, trying to keep cool.

He nudged Kyoutani with his shoulder, gesturing towards the lake with his head. “Hey, y’know, there’s this entire body of water about fifty feet away from you that would _really_ cool you off,” Yahaba joked.

It wasn’t an obvious reaction that Kyoutani elicited, but Yahaba saw it nonetheless, and the smile slid off his face when he saw how Kyoutani was minutely trying to make himself smaller at his quip. As soon as the expression of panic was there, though, it was gone, a typical scowl taking its place.

Kyoutani traced patterns in the sand below his feet with a stray twig, shrugging. “Meh, I don’t like the water. Seems like a waste of time.”

Yahaba knew from experience that when someone didn’t bother explaining further, they did it for a reason. He didn’t push the subject and nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Kyoutani’s eyes lit up when he saw an unoccupied volleyball at the end of the pier, Hanamaki and Matsukawa seemingly having had their fill of it.

“Hey, if I grab that, y’wanna’ practice some more?” Kyoutani asked sincerely.

The taller boy couldn’t help but smile, his chest squeezing at the earnestness in the blonde’s voice.

“Sure, I’m right behind you.”

Yahaba almost had a heart-attack when Kyoutani gave him an honest-to-god _smile_ , which gave him a glimpse at Kyoutani’s way too endearing, killer canines at the corner of his mouth. When he was out of earshot, Yahaba let out all of the air within his chest cavity like he had been holding his breath. Maybe he was… it was hard to keep track of himself when his entire focus was on the grumpy asshole he somehow had a crush on.

He would have thought, with how much he was focusing on Kyoutani, with how much attention the grumpy blonde had gathered from Yahaba (especially today), that Yahaba would have noticed what was about to occur sooner.

Two things happened simultaneously:

As Yahaba watched Kyoutani near the edge of the pier, he noticed with calculating precision how Kyoutani slowed his steps to a careful crawl, watching the edges of the water like they were going to jump up and bite him. And, coming from someone who looks like he could _literally bite_ you, this raised more than a few red flags.

At the same time, Matsukawa snuck up behind the wing spiker, whose entire attention was occupied with grabbing the volleyball and keeping an eye on the water lapping at the end of the pier.

A sick feeling of dread dropped in Yahaba’s stomach like a stone when all the pieces clicked together.  

_“Matsukawa-san, don’t!”_

Yahaba was hurtling towards the beach at the same time Kyoutani was plummeting into the open water.

Yahaba almost gasped at the rush of cold water encompassing his entire body, but the adrenaline he was feeling soon took over his senses and drove him towards Kyoutani’s panicking form. Yahaba attempted to grab hold of him, but his terrified flailing was hindering the process. Before Yahaba could panic, himself, he grabbed hold of him underneath his shoulders and made a beeline towards the shore, using all of his strength to drag him onto the shore. He felt a strong hand grab his arm and aid in his course, and soon the two were both gasping for air on the sand.

Yahaba felt his heart ache at the sound of Kyoutani’s choked gasps and damp coughs next to him, seeing the minute shakes from the force of driving water out of his lungs. Kyoutani was kneeling with his hands supporting his upper body, his clothes and body dripping from the lake water.

“Are you guys alright?!” Iwaizumi implored, his breath heavy from exertion. Yahaba deduced that it was him that pulled them out of the water.

Yahaba nodded, still panting and trying to regain his bearings. Kyoutani’s head was trained towards the sand beneath him and remained unresponsive.

The brunet had a feeling that Kyoutani’s silence didn’t bode well.

“Oh my god, Kyoutani,” Matsukawa pleaded, kneeling to Kyoutani’s level, “I’m _so sorry._ I swear, I didn’t know that you couldn’t—“

Matsukawa froze at the practically _feral_ glare the blonde gave, his teeth bared in a snarl that even gave Yahaba a chill down his spine.

Yahaba was almost positive that he was going to witness a murder at the hands of his teammate, but to his (and everyone’s) shock, Kyoutani merely hoisted himself up and stormed off in the general direction of the way they originally came.

Yahaba and the rest of Seijou stared numbly at the wing spiker as he started to run out of sight, having little to no idea what to do next. There was such a suffocating silence among them all that they were afraid to move.

The brunet was the first to break it, and started running in the direction of the trail.

 

 

_“Kyoutani!! Kyoutani, wait up!”_

Yahaba felt his lungs heaving as he rushed towards the furious boy in question. He had no idea how Kyoutani had managed to get _this_ far ahead in less than five minutes, but the blonde seemed to have slowed down for the moment. He refused to turn around, keeping his fists clenched at his side and his back to Yahaba as he kept his pace. His clothes were still in the same state as Yahaba’s, dripping with water and clinging to the damp skin underneath.

Yahaba finally managed to get close enough to Kyoutani to reach out to him. “Kyoutani, it’s alright, that wasn’t your—“

_“Don’t touch me!”_

The setter drew his hand back as if he had been burned, his eyes wide at how _raw_ Kyoutani’s voice sounded, like it had been stripped bare to nothing but sensitive nerves and torn flesh. The trembles rippling over Kyoutani’s frame gave Yahaba a lump in his throat.

“’Let’s all laugh at Kyoutani because he can’t swim,’ right? Really _fucking hilarious,”_ Kyoutani barked, his fists clenched so hard the nails were biting into the flesh of his palm. “’Let’s push him in the lake and see what happens even though he said he doesn’t like the water.’ ‘He’s an asshole, he deserves a harmless prank...’ right…”

Yahaba felt his chest twinge, his eyes flitting downward in thought. With such an abrasive exterior, physically and emotionally, it was hard to imagine that Kyoutani was capable of feeling _hurt._ And that fact alone gave Yahaba the almost _carnal_ urge to hold him as long as he needed to feel better again.

He brought his eyes up to Kyoutani’s back and took a deep breath before speaking.

“You’re not an asshole,” Yahaba began softly. Kyoutani’s shudders stopped abruptly as he heard Yahaba’s voice at his back.

“…and you didn’t deserve it at all. The only one at fault here… is him.” Yahaba knew Matsukawa didn’t mean any harm—he even tried to _apologize—_ but he also knew that this is what Kyoutani needed to hear.

The spiker’s hands finally unclenched, lying limp at his sides as he seemed to deflate all at once. The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity until Kyoutani finally muttered three words in finality.

“I’m going home.”

It gave Yahaba pause, hearing the defeat in the blonde’s voice. The realization that Kyoutani was planning on _walking_ home, when _home_ was nearly ten miles _away_ came crashing down on him almost immediately, and the brief thought of _why are you like this and why do I like you_ flashed through his mind as he let out a deep, resolute sigh.

He stepped forward, making his way around to face the striped-haired boy who was slowly coming back out of his shell, and peeked under his bangs to gaze at his face. His eyes grew hot at the red lining Kyoutani’s fierce, dark-rimmed eyes.

“Can I walk you home, at least…?” Yahaba asked.

Kyoutani stared at him as if he were under inspection. He felt a fierce rush of blood flush his cheeks at the implication that his question probably had posed out of context.

“I mean,” Yahaba sputtered, “I need to dry off too… a-and we live in the same direction… so… maybe you’d like some company or something?”

Kyoutani scowled, a matching shade of red coloring his face just like the boy across from him.

“…Okay.”

 

 

As they walked those whole ten miles back to their respective homes, the sun finally finishing its course behind the mountains, Yahaba couldn’t help but smile as he felt calloused fingers graze his until they finally interlaced together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Watari is an amazing friend and explained the whole situation to the whole crew when Yahaba apologized profusely over text for just leaving all of a sudden. Good for you Watari, you go Watari!
> 
> Come cry with me over Kyouhaba at rurounikristin.tumblr.com


End file.
